


He doesn't believe in fate, but this feels damned close

by gracefultree



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M, have your tissues ready, this one will be sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 12:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefultree/pseuds/gracefultree
Summary: It seemed inevitable that he found himself on a plane to Italy and Grace.





	He doesn't believe in fate, but this feels damned close

**Author's Note:**

> This is another experiment for me in terms of length (less than 1000k) and characters/pairing. I haven't decided if it's a one-shot or if there's a second part, but I'll let you know when I find out.
> 
> The third part of the experiment is that I wrote it in about an hour when usually I take much longer to polish things for posting. 
> 
> Enjoy!

John Reese didn’t believe in fate or coincidence. His experience with Harold and the Machine taught him that even more than his father’s death. 

And yet it seemed inevitable that when he lost Harold to Samaritan’s agents, just as the Machine finished uploading to the satellite, he found himself on a plane to Italy to find Grace and tell her of Harold’s sacrifice. That they ended up in bed seemed only natural, and when they woke up the next morning, he knew exactly what she was about to say even as she said it. 

“I’m so sorry, John. Last night I was thinking about him.” 

“So was I,” John replied instantly, and he knew it for truth as soon as it was spoken aloud. 

He didn’t mean it in the same way she did, at least at the beginning. 

First it was a simple thought; _Why isn’t Harold here?_

Then, _He should be here, not me!_

And, _What would he say to us, if he knew what we were doing?_

And, _How would he touch her?_

The thoughts continued, and he followed their path in the light of the morning behind his closed eyelids, hidden under the back of his forearm so he didn’t have to see her face. 

_How would he want me to touch her?_

_Would he want me to touch her like he did?_

_Would he want me to be myself with her?_

_Is this how she touched him?_

_Did he like when she kissed like this?_

_If she touched him like this, how would he respond?_

_If I touch her as he would touch her, and she touches me as she would touch him…_

_How would he touch me?_

_Would he like the way I’m kissing her?_

_Would he want something different?_

_Would he touch me like this? _

It hadn’t been conscious last night, but now it was so obvious he couldn’t let it go. 

She sat up so she could look down at him, clutching the sheet to her chest to cover her breasts. “Were you lovers?” she asked. It seemed preposterous that she hadn’t asked before, he thought to himself, given how ruined he was by Harold’s death. 

He took his arm off his face and looked up. She seemed curious and sad, but not jealous. 

“It never occurred to me until just now,” he answered honestly. He paused, rolling the thought around his head, testing its validity. “But we probably would have been, if either of us thought of it.” 

“You must love him so much,” she said, and burst into tears. 

“We both do,” he replied, enfolding her in his arms so they could comfort each other. 


End file.
